


Where the Pleasant Fountains Lie

by tfm



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Cliche, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfm/pseuds/tfm
Summary: Yasha needs someone to fix her pipes. This personal ad in the back of Generation Queer looks pretty promising.Or, Yasha and Beau accidentally live out a porn cliche.Or, seven chapters of sex, domesticity, and home improvements.Written for Beauyasha Week 2020
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha
Comments: 46
Kudos: 322





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This very broadly follows the prompts for Beauyasha Week 2020. Day 1 prompt is "First kiss."

I.

It had been Molly’s idea, moving to Nicodranas.

They had been happy enough in Trostenwald, working at the Circus Arts center, with Molly teaching sword juggling and Yasha running personal training sessions. It had been nice. It had been fine. But one day, when Yasha had wistfully sort of made a comment about wanting to live near the beach (never mind that her skin only had to hear the word “sun” before she started to burn), and Molly had taken the idea and run with it.

He had found them a nice little house on the outskirts of Nicodranas, with a very big, very messy yard. It would not be inaccurate to call it an acreage. It was, in all senses of the word, a “fixer-upper,” and he had gone ahead and bought the damn thing in a rush of impulsiveness. Yasha had long since learned not to ask how he had managed to forge her signature on the paperwork.

It had taken up almost all of his savings, and it took Yasha several weeks’ worth of convincing to let him even consider taking the money for her share. ‘You know,’ she said, when she handed him the cheque. ‘I would have just paid from the beginning.’

Molly made some excuse about not wanting to pressure her, but Yasha knew that he would have gladly paid it all on his own, given the opportunity. He was funny like that. Refused to help with the dishes, but would routinely drop vast amounts of money he didn’t have on something that would make her happy.

The ad was a small one, a stark contrast to the dozens and dozens of personals that surrounded it. It as a stylized picture of Rosie the Riveter, but instead of a polka dot headscarf, she was wearing a rainbow one. “We can nail anything,” the tagline said, and, underneath that, “No job too big or too small.”

Yasha was not entirely sure about the wording, but it seemed to be an ad for a handyman. Or handywoman, more likely. She was hesitant, but, she did not want to deal with some strange, sweaty man fixing their pipes, even if Molly would be delighted by it.

So, she called the number.

The phone rang for almost thirty seconds, before a breathless, accented sounding voice picked up. ‘ _Hello_?’

‘Ah…I need a plumber.’

‘ _Oh!_ ’ The voice sounded almost surprised. As though not many calls actually ever came through for this particular thing. ‘ _Oh hi. My name is Jester, what’s your name?_ ’

‘My name is Yasha.’

‘ _Well it is just_ lovely _to talk to you, Yasha, could you tell me what the problem is?_ ’

‘I, ah…have a leak. A hole that needs to be filled in, I think.’

‘ _Oh, that is_ definitely _something we can help with. And just for our records_ ,’ Jester said. ‘ _Could you please tell us where you saw our ad_?’

Yasha blanked. She felt a little embarrassed. She didn’t want to admit, after all, that she had found the ad in the back pages of Molly’s copy of GQ (No, not that one).

There was silence on the line. Then: ‘ _Was it the_ Nicodranas Times?’

‘Yes!’ Yasha’s response was far too immediate to be believable, but then, it did not seem to matter. She was probably not going to talk to Jester ever again anyway.

‘ _Great, I’ll just make a note of that. So we know where to advertise, you know?_ ’

‘Of course,’ Yasha said. It did not occur to her that perhaps there had been a reason that there was an ad in the back of Generation Queer.

‘ _What time is best for you? I can check when we might have a handyperson free_.’

‘Oh. Well, it is fairly urgent. So, ah…is there anyone free today?’

‘ _It looks like we have someone free in about half an hour, if that’s good for you_.’

That was good for Yasha. She gave Jester her address, and her phone number, and waited by the door. She could still hear Molly swearing as he tried in vain to deal with the leak. This was why you shouldn’t flush makeup remover pads.

Approximately twenty-seven minutes later, a cobalt blue utility truck pulled up in the driveway. The rims were covered in mud and dirt, and it looked like it was almost as old as Yasha.

Half a minute later, the doorbell rang. Yasha waited a couple of moments before answering, trying to pretend like she hadn’t been waiting by the door.

The woman standing on the stoop was…very attractive. Her dark hair was shaved into an undercut, the length of which was tied into a very practical looking ponytail. Her eyes were an impossibly bright shade of blue, and her skin was a few shades lighter than her hair. She was wearing a dark blue jumpsuit with the arms tied around the waist, and a plain, white tank top that showed off the lithe, wiry muscle of her shoulders and arms. Yasha could not help but stare.

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Hello. My name is Yasha.’

‘Beauregard. Well, Beau.’ The woman held out a hand to shake, and Yasha could not help but notice that her nails were cut very short. ‘So, I hear you’ve got pipe that needs to be laid?’

Yasha stared at her, frowning. ‘I—no, we have a leak in the bathroom.’ _Amongst other things_. Beau’s eyebrows seemed to meet slightly in the middle, as though in frown. Then, she grinned slightly.

‘Sorry, I try that one every time, and not once has it worked.’ She looked around the house, which, Yasha realized, was not in the greatest shape. ‘Looks like you have a few things that need to be dealt with.’

‘Ah…yes.’

‘Well, show me the bathroom leak to start, and then we can go from there.’

A sudden wave of self-consciousness washed over Yasha as she led Beau into the bathroom, even though they had barely been in the house for a week. Beau stared, looking down at the leak at the back of the toilet, and at the shower, and the basin, and everything else.’

‘Okay,’ she said, finally, though she sounded doubtful. ‘I can fix this.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah, no, I got it.’ She frowned. ‘Let me get some stuff from the truck.’ Beau went out to her truck, and returned with a larger toolbox, and a selection of pipes. ‘Give me twenty minutes.’

Yasha took that as her clue to go to the other room and mill around aimlessly until Beau was finished. After just five minutes, there was a very loud ‘Fuck!’ followed ten seconds later by a slightly less loud, ‘All good, sorry.’

Nineteen minutes later, Beau emerged from the bathroom, drenched. Yasha tried not to pay attention to how it made the tank top cling to her skin. ‘Forgot to turn the water off before I started,’ she said, wiping herself dry with the sleeve of her jumpsuit. ‘Ok, so the leak is fixed, but…’ She hesitated slightly.

Whatever she was going to say, Yasha was sure she would not be surprised. ‘You can tell me. I know the state of the place.’

‘Okay.’ Beau shrugged. ‘I don’t know who did your plumbing, but it is a fucking travesty.’

‘We, ah…just bought the place.’ Yasha was beginning to get an idea that perhaps there was a reason why the house was so cheap.

‘Did you have an inspection?’

Yasha didn’t know for sure, but, knowing Molly, she was fairly sure that the answer was “no.” ‘There may be a few more issues.’

‘You’re telling me. Anyway, I know it’s not a great answer, but the easier thing to do would be to rip it all out and start again. So I really would be laying some pipe.’

Oh. ‘I get the feeling that that would not be cheap.’

‘Probably not,’ Beau admitted. ‘And, I’ll be honest. It’s definitely not the only thing around here that needs work. If you want, I can make a list of stuff that needs to be worked on; not necessarily by a professional, but just…’ She paused. ‘Just so you know, y’know?’ She seemed to realize Yasha’s hesitation (and the reason for it) because she added, ‘Free of charge.’

‘Yes, that would be good.’ Yasha still couldn’t quite take her eyes off Beau’s arms, wet with both sweat and water. Then, she realized that Beau wasn’t wearing a bra, and two dark nipples were straining against the wet tank top. There was a long pause. Beau could not fail to miss where Yasha’s eyes were locked.

‘This may be off base,’ Beau said, ‘But do you wanna fuck?’ She was still in her business tone, which meant that it took Yasha several moments to process the words.

The honest answer was _yes_.

After all, Molly was always at her about finding someone to take her mind off things. It had been almost four years since Zuala died, and she really needed to get out and meet people.

Yasha stepped forward, and for half a second, Beau looked like she regretted asking the question. Then, Yasha kissed her.

No, that wasn’t an adequate descriptor. Yasha pushed her up against the wall, and put a hand around the back of her neck, and sort of dived in.

‘Is that a yes?’ Beau asked, when Yasha finally pulled away.

‘Yes,’ Yasha breathed.

After a very quick, very sweaty session in Yasha’s bedroom, Beau took a shower. The whole house seemed to vibrate and shake, and the pipes were clanging and moaning. Yasha was half-afraid that they would get washed down the street in a tsunami of wastewater.

Predictably, Beau did not stay in there long. ‘We really gotta fix those pipes,’ she said, as she re-dressed. Yasha did not pull her eyes away as the other woman pulled on plain dark panties, and her still wet tank top, and her (somewhat filthy) blue jumpsuit. This time, she did the jumpsuit all the way up, and Yasha saw on the left breast pocket, the word “Lionett” in white stitching. Then, she seemed to realize what she’d done, and tied it back down around the waist. Yasha wasn’t complaining. The water from the shower was still clinging to Beau’s arms.

‘Do you want me to check out the rest of the house?’ Beau was saying (Beau Lionett?). ‘See what else needs to be fixed?’

‘Sure,’ Yasha found herself saying. It would be rude to say no. It was technically what she had hired the woman for, after all. Beau took out her phone, as well as a clipboard and pen, and started taking notes, and photos. Every now and then, she made a derisive sort of noise as she noticed something else.

That didn’t seem like a good sign.

They finished in the garage, where Beau spent a decent amount of time examining the door springs, but she finally seemed satisfied. ‘Improperly installed springs will fuck you up,’ she explained. ‘Do not fuck with a garage door.’

‘I will…take that into consideration,’ Yasha said, frowning. She did not have any plans to install a new garage door any time soon, but the information was still useful. ‘What is the verdict?’ She gestured towards the clipboard.

‘Honestly?’ Beau said, ‘Not as bad as I first thought. The pipes are the worst of it. Someone tried to renovate the place and either did it themselves, or hired some shitty contractors. The actual stuff they put in is of a reasonably decent quality, for the most part.’ She tore off the top page of her clipboard, and handed it to Yasha. There was “fix pipes,” of course, but then a lot of other, smaller things, like “uneven baseboards.”

Yasha nodded. ‘Alright,’ she said. Beau’s eyes scanned across the rest of the garage, and landed on an object in the corner, half covered with rags and newspaper.

‘Holy shit, is that an anvil?’

‘Ah…Yes.’ Yasha had not yet gotten around to setting up all of her equipment, and consequently, her anvil and the gas-powered blower were sitting around in the garage, gathering dust.

Beau’s eyes lit up, but then she frowned. ‘You know, it’s not really my place to say, but I kinda like you so I feel like I really should. It’s a fire hazard if you’re going to do it in here.’ Yasha stared. ‘Sorry. Volunteer firefighter. Force of habit. I see oily rags, and it sets me off.’

‘No, no, I understand.’ Yasha smiled, relieved. ‘I, ah…do not intend to do it in here. I will probably set something up outside. Or maybe have a proper shop built. But that is a long way down the list of things to do.’

Beau nodded. ‘Tell you what,’ she said. ‘You teach me how to hammer metal, and I’ll do your pipes for free.’

Yasha considered it. The list that Beau had given her was not short – fix the pipes, relay the tiles, knock the house down and build it again from scratch. Alright, maybe that last one was a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. The word “fixer-upper” was starting to look less and less like a possibility.

‘Here,’ Beau said, as she left. ‘Let me give you my personal number.’ She scrawled it on a scrap of paper, and handed it to Yasha with a wink.

Yasha went back into the house, and stared at the crooked baseboards.

Molly, when Yasha told him, was unperturbed. He did have a strange way of being endlessly optimistic about things.

‘It’ll all work out,’ he had said, airily. Yasha knew for a fact he had spent all day down on the docks, busking. First with the Tarot cards, and then with the swords. He’d made a few gold, but nowhere near enough to cover all the repair expenses that they had. Beauregard’s offer was beginning to sound more and more appealing.

He _did_ laugh his ass off, though, when Yasha told him what _else_ had happened. How she had slept with their handywoman, and then somehow almost agreed to teach her how to blacksmith. ‘I don’t know how you did it, but you someone managed to _fail_ at having a one-night stand.’

The only rebuttal Yasha could even think of was, ‘It was the afternoon.’ Not to mention that…well, she hadn’t exactly set out to have a…one-afternoon stand. It was just…she spent half her life with Molly in the back of her head, telling her she needed to get out more, and here was a very willing, very attractive woman that had literally offered.

‘Right, right, I’m sure the exact time you got railed really makes a different.’ Yasha felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She didn’t think it was prudent to tell him that it had mostly been her who had done the railing. A look of curiosity crossed his face. ‘Do you have the ad there?’

Yasha went to the recycling bin, and found the magazine. She flipped to the back, looking for the right page.

_There_. In amongst all the ones with the “Call me for a good time” messages. She set the magazine on the table, and showed it to Molly.

Molly stared at the ad. There was a beat of silence. ‘Yasha,’ he said, finally. ‘You do realize that that wasn’t an ad for a handyman, right? You answered an ad for someone wanting a hook-up.’

Yasha frowned, staring at him. ‘But she fixed the leak.’

He laughed. ‘Yeah, I’ll bet she did. This was some chick that wanted to roleplay, and you probably got her jollies off by asking her to fix the leak and then banging her.

_Oh._ Maybe there was a reason that Beau hadn’t left an invoice. ‘But she had a wrench.’

‘I’ve never met a lesbian that didn’t carry a wrench around with them.’

Yasha didn’t even want to begin to have that argument. After all, _she_ didn’t carry a wrench around. Admittedly, she did carry several knives, and a blowtorch, and some tongs…Okay, maybe Molly wasn’t entirely incorrect.

Yasha picked up the phone.

They really needed to fix the pipes.


	2. Chapter 2

II.

Yasha was weeding the garden.

Actually, that was a phrase that didn’t even begin to cover what she was actually doing. Pulling up weeds, cutting through bramble, moving wheelbarrows full of dirt and rock…All in the name of getting the garden into a plantable condition.

Molly was not a great help.

He had pulled up half a dozen weeds, before declaring that it was not good for his skin, and going back inside.

There was a lot to do before they would be anywhere near ready. There were a half a dozen or so stumps that littered the yard, and even the stumps were so well-hidden by the long grass that Yasha almost tripped over one on her way to get the weed-whacker from the garage. She could mow around the stumps, but getting them out of the ground was a different story.

It would be a lot easier if she had some help.

Yasha’s phone was a dead weight in her pocket. Asking a question would be an excuse, really. She _did_ want to see Beau again, but she didn’t want to make it seem like she was desperate. Beau had been busy for the last week or so, with enough jobs that she couldn’t start on the bathroom.

‘ _Yo_.’ Beau answered on the third ring. Definitely not the sort of greeting that Yasha imagined that people gave the people they were crushing on.

‘It’s Yasha.’

‘ _Oh, hey!_ ’ Was it Yasha’s imagination, or did Beau sound immediately a little brighter? Beau didn’t have her number, she remembered, which meant that she couldn’t have known who was calling. ‘ _What’s up_?’

‘I wanted to ask your advice,’ Yasha said, courage failing her in the moment. ‘About removing tree stumps.’

‘ _Oh, that’s easy. Dig around the base with a shovel, then chop up the roots with an axe. Or, if you wanted to do something super cool, you could turn it into a rocket stove, and like…roast hot dogs, or marshmallows, or something_.’

‘I…what?’ There were words in that sentence, but Yasha was entirely certain that her somewhat stilted Common was playing tricks on her. ‘I should set it on fire?’

‘ _It’s super easy_ ,’ Beau told her. ‘ _If you want, I can come around with hot dogs, and show you_.’

‘As long as we are careful,’ Yasha said. ‘You know, a volunteer firefighter told me not too long ago that I need to be very careful around fire.’ Beau laughed, and Yasha was taken aback by just how much she liked the sound. ‘Ah, there are a few stumps to remove, so I will have to remove some others first, I think.’

There was a pause. ‘ _Okay. Are you free tonight_?’

Beau got there at four o’clock, with hot dogs and marshmallows and an axe that looked like it could fuck up a person. ‘I was supposed to be doing some stuff at the station,’ she said, ‘But that got changed last minute so ops could prep for a training drill.’

‘Training drill?’ Yasha raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh, you know, “oh no, there’s been an earthquake at the station, go and find all the injured improv actors covered in fake blood and administer first aid.” There’s like…ten stages of planning they have to do, so equipment maintenance got pushed back.’

‘I see.’

‘Anyway,’ Beau said, shouldering her axe. ‘Show me those tree stumps.’ Yasha was a little embarrassed of how alluring that image was.

Together, they made short work of the stumps. Yasha dug around them, and Beau chopped the roots with her axe, and they both wrapped the chain around the stumps to hook up to the tow bar on Beau’s truck. The wheels spun in the dirt as she revved the engine, but finally, all but the largest of the stumps had been pulled up.

‘Keep those,’ Beau told her. ‘Chop ‘em up, use ‘em for firewood.’

‘We don’t have a fireplace.’ Yasha spoke as though Beau did not have an intimate knowledge of their house and what was in it.

Beau’s only response was a wink. ‘This is a pretty decent-sized yard,’ she commented. ‘What’re you gonna do with it, once it’s clear?’

‘Oh, um…’ Yasha frowned. She knew what she _wanted_ to do, of course, but…well, it was a little embarrassing. Still, there was such an open, friendly sort of look on Beau’s face, like she actually wanted to know. ‘I would really like to plant flowers.’

‘Oh, that’s a really good idea.’ Beau rubbed her chin. ‘What kind of flowers?’

‘Ah I was thinking wildflowers; maybe some poppies, and sunflowers, and snapdragons…’ Yasha trailed off. ‘I don’t know, I just really like flowers.’

There was a strange expression on Beau’s face; one that Yasha hadn’t seen before. She was pretty sure it was an expression of serenity.

‘So, um…you mentioned a rocket stove?’

‘Oh, right!’ Beau seemed to return to reality. ‘Let me go get my drill.’ Beau went out to her truck, and returned two minute later with a cordless power drill. ‘You like camping?’

‘Yes,’ Yasha said. She actually went camping quite a lot, though it didn’t quite fit what most people’s definition of camping was. It mostly involved sleeping in trees and foraging for food, and cooking it over an open flame. She had never made a stove out of a tree stump before, though.

‘Okay, so it’s like using a camping stove, but instead of it being made out of metal, it’s made out of wood.’

‘Ah…’ Yasha frowned. ‘Is it not…dangerous?’

‘Don’t worry.’ Beau winked. ‘I’ve both set and put out a lot of fires in my time.’ Still, she went and got both a bucket of water and a fire extinguisher, and then made sure that the ground around the stump was clear from any dead wood. Then, she started drilling.

First, she drilled a single hole in the center of the stump. Then, she drilled half a dozen or so in from the side. ‘The trick is, they have to be deep enough to reach the hole in the middle,’ Beau told Yasha, as she wiped sweat from her brow. It looked like hard work. ‘Otherwise there’s no airflow.’

‘Of course,’ Yasha said. She was not particularly well-versed in the science of these things, but she did have some experience in starting campfires. Beau got down on her hands and knees, and fed a lit stick of fatwood through one of the holes at the side of the stump, and a few smaller bits of kindling into the top hole.

‘And there you go. Stump’s gonna burn from the inside out, and we get something to roast marshmallows on.’

Yasha was impressed. It was one of those things that seemed so obviously simple in hindsight, and yet she’d never even considered doing it. ‘You know,’ she told Beau. ‘I think I have some leftover damper dough.’

They cooked hot dogs, and bread, and marshmallows over the fire, chatting about anything that seemed to cross their minds. Still, Beau seemed to appreciate the silence as much as Yasha did. Or at the very least, she was comfortable with it.

‘Thank-you for all your help,’ Yasha said, finally. The stump was burning down to it last embers, and Beau was sprawled out lazily, with her head in Yasha’s lap.

‘That’s what friends are for, right?’

‘I…’ Yasha frowned. ‘Yes,’ she said. She was still not entirely sure where things stood. On the one hand, Beau very much came across as someone that did not get overly committed in relationships, but on the other hand, here she was with her head in Yasha’s lap, after they had spent hours getting to know each other. After they had already slept together once. But, then again, Yasha _had_ technically met her through a personal ad in the back of a magazine. 

It was very confusing.

Even more confusing when Beau sat up, and rested her hand on Yasha’s thigh. Yasha reciprocated by pulling Beau in and kissing her slowly, passionately, but still roughly on the lips. ‘Would you, ah…like to stay the night?’

‘I would like that very much,’ Beau said. She sent a quick text to her roommate (the roommate that Yasha still hadn’t met), and let Yasha drag her into the bedroom.

They had a few of rounds of very nice sex (the kind which made Yasha very glad that Molly wasn’t home), and Beau fell asleep sprawled naked across Yasha’s chest.

It was nice.

Though she had certainly been with people since Zuala’s death, this was the first time she saw it as something beyond a brief fling. Something that could be…well, something more.

The next morning, Yasha rose early. There was some leftover bread that she had made, in addition to some bacon that she had cured, and eggs that one of the neighbors across the street had given her.

‘Have a good night?’ came a voice. Yasha jumped. Molly had never in his life gotten up before eleven, and yet now, on the day Yasha least wanted it, he seemed to find it very important to have a seven a.m cup of coffee.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Yasha, sweetie,’ he said, patiently. ‘Her truck is in the driveway.’ _Oh._ Well, that would make it difficult to talk her way out of it. ‘How many times did you do it?’

‘Molly…’

‘Two?’ he asked. Yasha didn’t answer. ‘Three? Four?’ Clearly, Yasha had a tell, because after he said “four,” and looked at her face, he seemed satisfied. ‘Four times, Yasha. For the love of Kord, are you planning on letting the poor girl walk today?’

Yasha didn’t say anything. Before she could think of _what_ to say, she heard a noise that she definitely, definitely didn’t want to hear. The sound of footsteps coming from her bedroom.

Beau was wearing one of Yasha’s old t-shirts. It hit her mid-thigh, and did not do a sufficient job of hiding some frankly fantastic legs.

‘This is the person that’s going to fix our pipes?’ Molly sounded skeptical, and really, Yasha couldn’t exactly blame him. She had never had a laborer that had walked through the house half-naked before.

‘Go fuck yourself,’ Beau said, cheerfully, not even breaking stride as she went through the kitchen to the bathroom. She didn’t sound angry.

‘Be nice,’ Yasha said, chastising Molly with a look. ‘I…’

‘What, you like her?’ This time, he didn’t sound skeptical. In fact, he sounded surprised.

Yasha glanced back over towards the bathroom. ‘I do,’ she said, in a low sort of voice. Molly seemed to settle himself.

‘Alright then,’ he said. When Beau returned, Molly was the perfect picture of the perfect host. He put on coffee, and toasted the bread, and even let Beau have the last of the fermented honey that he had bought from that weird bodega in town. It had cost him five gold, which he reminded Yasha every time she went to make toast with it.

‘So about these pipes,’ Beau said, through a mouthful of bacon and tomato. ‘I’ve got a free stretch coming up, if you wanted to get it done soon, and I really recommend that you do. I flushed before, and it sounded like you’ve got a fucking demon down there.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘Probably a while,’ Beau admitted. ‘I’ll have to take up the pipe that’s already there, and fix any mistakes that the last plumber made, and then put new pipe in, and fix any other issues while I’m at it.’

‘Oh,’ was all Yasha could say. It was their only bathroom. ‘How long is a while?’

‘A week?’ Beau said, in the sort of voice that suggested that it would take a lot longer than a week. ‘Really, you should do the whole house, but that’s a much bigger project that I don’t have time for right now.’

Yasha and Molly shared a look. ‘We may have to check our options,’ Yasha said. She was no stranger to sleeping outside; she had a tent, and was comfortable enough with surviving in the wilderness for weeks on end. Molly, on the other hand, was a little more of an urban dweller. But, she was sure he had made a friend that he could stay with while they fixed up the things that were necessary to make…Well, to make the house livable.

‘I can stay with Cree,’ Molly said, seemingly reading Yasha’s mind. ‘Do you have somewhere to stay?’ He was giving her a pointed look, and Yasha didn’t quite get what he was saying. Beau was staring off somewhere past him. The kitchen window did give a nice view into the hills.

‘Ah, yes,’ Yasha said. ‘I have somewhere to go.’ It wasn’t until two days later, camped in the woods, spending her days making clay pots over a campfire, that she realized Molly had been trying to get her to ask Beau for a place to stay. She winced.

She was deep enough in the woods that the national park ranger didn’t bother her; though camping in it was technically illegal, things seemed lax enough that no-one seemed to enforce it all that much.

In any case, she made her pots, and foraged for mushrooms, and in some places, there were even flowers. Not the neat, even rows of the gardens she saw in magazines, but wildflowers of ever color imaginable, the kind she wanted to one day fill her garden with. On the last day of camping, after getting a message from Beau that said only “it’s ready” she picked a varied bunch of every different kind she could find, and drove back to the house.

Beau met her at the front door. The first thing she did was hand back Yasha’s keys. There was a strange sort of look on her face that seemed almost…nervous. As though she was on edge about whatever it was that she was going to show Yasha.

‘I…’ Yasha said. She hesitated, and pushed the bunch of flowers into Beau’s chest. Then, she winced. _Surely there was a more romantic way you could have done that?_ Molly would have laughed himself senseless.

‘Oh,’ Beau said. Was she…frowning? No, she wasn’t frowning. She was staring at the flowers, and Yasha couldn’t be sure, but there might have been tears in her eyes. ‘You know, it’s funny,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a ton of…well, I’ve been with a lot of people, and no-one’s ever brought me flowers before.’

‘Did I…is it okay?’ Yasha was immediately worried; perhaps no-one had ever bought Beau flowers before because she hated them.

‘They’re great.’ Beau grinned. ‘I think you’re really gonna like this,’ she said, and led Yasha into the bathroom.

It was like walking into someone else’s house. Beau hadn’t just redone the pipes, she had redone the entire bathroom. The toilet and the vanity, which had both been crookedly set, had been repositioned, and the showerhead had been replaced with something that wasn’t from Pre-Divergence.

More than any of that, though, Yasha’s eyes immediately went to the back wall, and she stood there, utterly transfixed.

‘I had a bunch of leftover tiles from something else I was doing.’ Yasha couldn’t tell if Beau was lying or not. Was this the kind of person that would drop thousands of gold to fix someone’s bathroom because she felt bad about it? Yasha didn’t know her well enough to answer that question. ‘It’s nothing flash, but at least you can have a shower now without anyone having to put in earplugs.’

Yasha was speechless. Not just because the tiles had been redone, but because of _how_ they had been redone. The entire back wall of the bathroom had been replaced with a colorful wildflower mosaic in half a dozen different colors. Pinks, and blues, and reds. Yasha could make out poppies, and sunflowers, and snapdragons – all the things she’d mentioned that night when they’d pulled out stumps.

‘Beau, this is…this isn’t “nothing flash,” this is amazing.’

‘I, uh…I had to ask my roommate for help,’ Beau admitted. She still had that nervous look on her face. ‘She’s the artist; she helped design it, and figured out where all the different colors had to go. I just tiled it.’

There was a long pause. ‘She is very talented,’ Yasha said, meaning, really, _you are very talented_.

Beau, she was sure, could feel the tension that was running through the room. ‘You know what would look really good?’ she said, in what seemed to be an attempt at changing the subject. ‘Like…some wrought iron towel racks. I used what was already there, but they don’t quite go with the color scheme.’

Yasha was silent. ‘Beau,’ she said, evenly. ‘Do not take this the wrong way, but I would really like to fuck you now.’

Beau made to go for the door, but Yasha pushed it shut. ‘No,’ she said. ‘In here.’

Beau shrugged, and started to pull off her jumpsuit. For some strange reason, Yasha got the impression that this was not the weirdest place that she had fucked someone.

In any case, they fucked in the shower, and then spent a long time standing together under the hot water, washing away the sweat and the dirt.

Beau left after, taking the bunch of flowers that seemed utterly inadequate compared to what she had given in return.

Yasha called Molly, and he came home bearing pizza. As always, she told him what had happened.

‘You christened the bathroom before I got a chance to?’ Molly sounded disappointed. ‘Where are you going to do it next? Kitchen? Bedroom?’ He paused, and seemed to consider something. ‘This is turning into a Doctor Seuss book. Would you fuck her in the car? Would you fuck her at the bar? Would you fuck her at the fair, or really fuck her anywhere?’

Yasha gave him a look, which unfortunately did not seem to help.

‘I know I’m being fairly crass, but would you fuck her in the—’ Yasha hit him. It wasn’t a hard hit, but it was enough to derail his train of thought.

‘I suppose now I have to teach her how to blacksmith,’ Yasha said, vaguely. Not that it was an imposition of any kind. In fact, her mind thought back to a movie Molly had made her watch once, with a very sensual scene involving a ghost and a pottery wheel. Impractical though it was, she imagined her arms over Beau’s, directing where each hit of the mallet should go, their sweat intermingling, breath hot and heavy. ‘I have to go,’ she said, automatically.

‘You gonna masturbate?’

‘Yes.’

Molly raised an invisible glass. ‘I’ll put the stereo on,’ he said. ‘And for the love of Gods,’ he said, ‘Make sure you keep bringing her flowers.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trojan horse of minor angst.
> 
> Before I forget to mention, the title is from ya boi Will Shakespeare, and is absolutely a cunnilingus reference.

III.

In the end, Yasha decided against more flowers.

While Beau had seemed incredibly grateful for the flowers that Yasha _had_ given, she hadn’t really given any indication that she liked them any more than the normal amount.

Now that she thought about it, Yasha wasn’t sure what things Beau _did_ like (except, of course, for the very, very filthy things). They had talked, of course, but for the most part, their relationship so far had been very much about the physical side of things. The few things that Yasha did know had been the result of asides, rather than in depth conversations. The only exception had been that night by the fire, though even that had been marked by long periods of comfortable silence. The only thing they had discussed, was coming to Nicodranas. Beau had mentioned meditating by the ocean, but Yasha didn’t think that a jar of sand was going to cut it.

Beau had, of course, asked to be taught how to use an anvil, but she had also admired the ornate sword that hung on the wall of Yasha’s bedroom. It seemed a bit much, Yasha thought, to make someone a sword after just a couple of weeks of knowing each other might have been a bit much. A knife, though, might have been just the ticket.

Before any of that, though, she had to set up the forge.

In the end, instead of a full shed, Yasha decided on something more akin to a gazebo. Enough that she was well out of the way of anything flammable, and still got a decent amount of airflow. Yasha had heard too many horror stories of hobbyist smiths that had given themselves carbon monoxide poisoning. She didn’t think that would curry her too much favor with a volunteer firefighter.

Over the course of a weekend, with Molly’s begrudging help, she put up an open shed made from pallets she had gotten for free from a local craft brewery. It faced out over the hills behind the house, and was closed off on two side to protect against the weather.

It was not a perfect solution, nor a permanent one. At the moment, promises aside, Yasha didn’t see herself doing too much in the way of recreational smithing, and if the weather did get too bad, she could always move it back into the garage for storage.

It took several days (and a lot of ignored input from Molly) to design the thing. Simple in scope, for the most part, but with a blue resin inlay in the handle, and an embroidered leather sheath. In any case, it gave Yasha the opportunity to get the rest of her artisanal equipment out of boxes and start setting them up in a more permanent fashion. There wasn’t enough room for a craft table in her bedroom, but seeing as how Molly didn’t drive, and Yasha’s motorcycle didn’t take up a whole space (not to mention the fact that the anvil was now outside), she managed to set up a decent sized workbench in the garage.

Actually crafting the blade took the better part of a day. The blade itself she made from a rectangular chunk of carbon steel, hammered into shape. Yasha had made enough of these specific blades for the halfling hipsters in Trostenwald that had no business in carrying a Bowie knife around with them, but paid well anyway. This particular blade, though, Yasha put a lot more effort into, reheating and rehammering the metal far more times than was necessary just to make sure it was perfect. Sanding, and sharpening and oiling the blade seemed to take hardly any time in comparison.

The handle took another day, and a lot of work with the rotary tool, and while the resin cured, Yasha got to work on the sheath. Her embroidery admittedly was not very good, but the design was simple; a two-color motif of a rolling wave, the blue of it matching the resin inlay in the handle.

Yasha was pretty proud of it. Even still, she was very nervous when Beau came around for breakfast (with Molly mysteriously disappearing), and Yasha presented it to her.

Beau didn’t say anything. She stared at the knife for what seemed like an eternity, before looking up at Yasha with tears in her eyes.

_Oh no_ , _was it that bad_?

‘You made this for me?’ Beau’s voice cracked slightly.

‘I…I didn’t know if there was anything that you would like, and I wanted to say thank-you…’ Yasha trailed off.

Beau seemed to leap on her in a hug. ‘Yasha,’ she said. ‘This is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen you naked several times.’

Yasha released a tension she didn’t know she was holding. Beau pulled the knife from the sheath and examined the blade. ‘You seriously made this?’ she said, as though she still couldn’t believe it. ‘Holy shit, Yasha…This is way more impressive than some shitting tiling.’

‘You should not sell yourself short,’ was all Yasha could think to say.

‘I mean, I know you didn’t give it to me to entice me into doing anything, and I don’t necessarily want to have it be a transactional thing, but—’ For once, Yasha’s insight was on her side, and she shut Beau up with a kiss.

They limited themselves to a single session, though Yasha was very tempted by the way Beau’s abs seemed to catch the sunlight as she put her pants back on.

‘Are you doing anything on Friday night?’

Yasha was not doing anything. She hadn’t been in town nearly long enough to have established a social life. At this point, her social life was ordering a pizza with Molly, and sitting down to watch re-runs of _The Astral Zone_. She kept staring at Beau’s abs. ‘No, why?’

‘I’ve got a fight, if you wanted to come watch.’ Yasha’s mind was blank for a brief moment, before she remembered Beau mentioning a very recent foray into MMA fighting.

‘Ah, of course,’ Yasha said. ‘I would be happy to.’

They returned to the kitchen, and had what Beau had come over for in the first place. Beau was standing by the table as Yasha tipped bacon and eggs onto the plates that she had made (and Molly had painted). Beau was distracted.

Her eyes seemed to skate across the magazine on the shelf. It was Molly’s copy of GQ (still not that one). She gave a slight coughing laugh. ‘Is that yours?’

‘Ah, no, it’s Molly’s.’ Yasha frowned. ‘Do you not read it?’

The laugh that came was much less subtle. ‘Definitely not. I mean…I’ll occasionally go to Pride, or go to a bar, or stuff like that, but all the…y’know, “gay scene” stuff isn’t really my thing. I just do my part by being indiscriminately horny.’

There was a long sort of silence. ‘Is it some kind of dealbreaker, that I don’t read it?’ Beau sounded confused, and maybe even a little hurt.

‘No,’ Yasha said quickly. ‘No, it’s not that. I…’ She wasn’t entirely sure how to explain it. ‘So, hypothetically, it’s not the sort of ad where you would, say, put an ad for handyman services in the personals section?’

Beau’s expression changed from confused, to almost enraged. ‘Did you—I’m gonna fucking kill her.’ She grabbed for the magazine, and flipped to the back.

‘It wasn’t that one,’ Yasha said, hastily. ‘It was last month’s. Hang on, Molly keeps the old ones in his room.’ The plates of breakfast were momentarily abandoned, as Yasha led Beau down the hallway.

Molly’s door was locked, but Yasha had never let something like that stop her before. It was a good thing that the doors were in about as bad shape as the rest of the house. All it took was one good shove, and the door creaked open.

Molly’s bedroom was an experience. A brightly colored tapestry hung from one wall, and the rest of them were covered in much smaller, just as brightly colored posters. The magazines were stacked in a pile next to Molly’s bed. Yasha took the one on top. She found the ad near the back, and showed it to Beau.

‘Motherfucker,’ Beau muttered. ‘I am seriously going to fucking kill her.’ To Yasha, she said, ‘My roommate Jester – she asked if she could be my secretary and book all my jobs. I guess all those clients didn’t want to fuck me because they thought I was an exceptionally attractive handywoman.’

‘I mean, you are,’ Yasha said, reasonably. Beau grinned. ‘Wait.’ Yasha frowned again. ‘Does this mean that when you came over and fixed that first leak, and asked me if I wanted to fuck, you were just…coming onto me?’

‘I mean, yeah. You were super attractive, and you seemed like you’d be into it. Never thought it’d turn into an actual relationship, though.’

Yasha hadn’t quite admitted to herself that she was actually in a relationship, but she supposed that that was what it actually was. They went places, and did things, and then came home and _did things_. It was nice. ‘Is that…okay?’ she asked, slowly.

Beau didn’t answer straight away. ‘Yeah,’ she said finally. ‘Yeah, I think it is. I mean…I didn’t know, and you didn’t know that I didn’t know, and…I mean, we’re having a good time, right? I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with that. All cards on the table, you know?’

‘Right.’ Yasha still had a few cards to put on the table. One very big card to put on the table. ‘I have…well, if we are going to move forward, then there are some things that I should tell you.’

She was half expecting Beau to look shocked, or surprised. Instead, Beau laughed. ‘Yeah, I reckon I’ve probably got a few things that probably need to be put out in the open, too,’ she said. She paused. ‘Right now?’

‘No,’ Yasha said, immediately. Not that she wasn’t ready to say them, but it hardly seemed the time nor the place. ‘Maybe just…if we know that there are things that we don’t know, and we know that we can be okay with that for now…if that makes sense.’

Beau laughed. ‘Yeah, that makes sense,’ she said. There was a long pause. ‘Yash, you spent however fucking long making a gorgeous, hand-crafted knife, and you weren’t even sure if we were dating?’

Yasha hesitated. She didn’t want to say yes, but then, her silence was answer enough. Beau grinned, and pressed a kiss to her chin tattoo. ‘I’ll see you Friday night?’ she said.

Yasha kissed Beau back. ‘Absolutely,’ she said.

…

The arena was reasonably crowded.

Certainly more crowded than Yasha had expected, and she had the vague idea that Beau had been very much understating the fact when she’d said that it was an “amateur” fight.

There were cameras there after all, and, compared to the bare-knuckle, “ring spray-painted in the dirt” fights that Yasha had seen back in Xhorhas, it was a very professional looking operation.

Beau was wearing a blue and grey sports bra, and bright blue shorts. Even her gloves were blue. They were the colors, Yasha gathered, of Beau’s gym, and the dark-skinned, bald elf that stood in her corner just outside the cage, was her trainer.

‘Jester couldn’t make it,’ Beau said. She sounded mildly upset. ‘I don’t think she’s ever missed one of my fights.’

‘You have ah…had a lot of these?’

‘Like…six,’ Beau admitted. ‘Three wins, two losses, one draw.’

‘Is it dangerous?’ Yasha was concerned. She couldn’t imagine any situation in which people were beating each other up was anything _but_ dangerous.

Beau laughed. ‘Well, yeah,’ she said. ‘But y’know, they’ve got ring doctors and stuff. People don’t usually die.’

Yasha wasn’t entirely sure that she liked the “usually” in that statement, nor the casual way that Beau seemed to say it. Beau seemed to pick up on her concern. ‘It’ll be fine,’ she reassured Yasha, putting a hand to her shoulder. ‘They reset after like…every punch, so it’s actually super hard to beat someone to death.’

Yasha was not reassured. Her trepidation took a few minutes into the first fight to start to fade away. It was not Beau fighting, but a pair of teenage tieflings that seemed to be brothers, and the fight had to be stopped every thirty seconds or so, because they had gotten tangled in each other’s horns.

Beau’s fight was third, and it seemed to last both a long time, and hardly any time at all.

The first round, by Yasha’s reckoning, seemed pretty even. Beau got in some good punches, and almost managed to pin her opponent, but the other woman, a half-elf, slipped out a the last second, and aimed a kick to Beau’s solar plexus.

The second round seemed to go in the half-elf’s favor. At least, the first half did. Beau misjudged a feint, and took a hook to the face, stepping back woozy, shaking, and bleeding. Yasha half stood, readying herself to rush to the ring if she needed to, but Beau stayed up, and took her revenge in the form of a strong clinch, and some well-placed knees. The round ended before either of them managed to seal the deal.

Sweating hard, and breathing heavily, Beau shot a look in Yasha’s direction between rounds. Yasha gave her a smile, and a thumbs up, and Beau seemed to gain a renewed confidence in herself.

The third round lasted less than a minute. Beau had knocked her opponent to the ground, and pulled her into a triangle choke. The half-elf tried valiantly to escape, but eventually tapped her flailing hands against Beau’s legs.

It was over.

Yasha didn’t wait. She ran to the edge of the ring, and kissed Beau square on the lips as soon as she emerged.

‘Shit,’ Beau grinned. She was bleeding from her nose, and her eye was already swollen. ‘I should invite you more often.’ The ring doctor checked her over, and pronounced her free from concussion or any other issues, and a small weight seemed to lift from Yasha’s stomach.

She waited outside the locker rooms while Beau showered.

While she stood there, as though she was a bodyguard, a man walked up.

He looked a lot like Beauregard. His eyes were brown, and he had a bit of a bald spot, but his hair and skin were both the same shade of brown as Beau's. He had his hands steepled in the same way Beau did sometimes, and he had a reticent sort of look on his face.

Yasha did not bet often, but she would have but her money on this man being Beau’s father.

She knew that she wasn't very smart. At least not compared to Beau or even Mollymauk, but even she could tell that Beau absolutely did not want to see this person.

‘Is Beauregard in there?’

‘No,’ Yasha said. She folded her arms, and tried to make herself look as intimidating as possible. The man seemed to be considering his options. He looked to the door to the locker rooms, and then back to Yasha. Clearly, he knew that she was lying. In fact, he’d probably seen Beau walk in there. But, he didn’t seem to want to push matters. A smart move, considering that there were no small number of people here that would kick his ass if he tried anything funny.

‘Well, could you please tell her that I only want to talk.’ The man handed Yasha a business card. The logo at the top read “Lionett and Sons,” and the name on it was Thoreau Lionett.

‘Lionett and Sons?’ Yasha asked. Beau had not mentioned any siblings.

‘Well, he’s only two, but it sounds better than just “Lionett.”’

‘What about Lionett and Daughter?’ Yasha had asked the question before she could even stop herself. The man that she assumed was Thoreau looked surprised.

‘Well it doesn’t really roll off the tongue, does it?’

Yasha didn’t answer. She took the card, wordlessly, and glared at Thoreau until he walked away. For a brief moment, she considered tearing up the card, but then decided against it. It should be Beau’s decision whether or not she speak to her father, even if the man did set off so many of Yasha’s alarm bells.

Beau emerged from the locker room ten minutes later, bloody and bruised, but grinning. She’d showered, and changed into a grey hoodie and ripped jeans. The smell of sandalwood and lemongrass permeated Yasha’s senses. She pocketed the card. She wasn’t going to be the one to ruin Beau’s good mood tonight.

‘Do you want me to drive you home?’ Yasha asked. She knew that Beau had probably ridden her bike here, but with her left eye swollen shut, and her whole body still thrumming with adrenaline, it didn’t seem like the greatest idea to let her ride it home.

‘Is that okay?’ Beau asked. ‘My vision’s still a little blurry.’ Yasha wasn’t surprised. Beau had taken a few shots to the head. Yasha had had to stop herself from climbing into the ring.

‘I’ll pick up dinner,’ Yasha told her.

There was no shortage of food places on the way home. Yasha bypassed Cheesesteak of the Wind and Ray’s Scorching Wings, before stopping at Bigby’s Hamburgers. There, they bought a truly disgusting amount of burgers and fries which they took back to Beau’s place. Yasha only realized when she had to ask for directions that she had never actually been there before.

It was a small flat.

Yasha would have thought it was a studio, until Beau pointed out two small doors off a very small hallway. ‘Ah, where is your roommate?’

‘Oh, she’s staying at her mom’s place. You ever heard of the Ruby of the Sea?’

Yasha frowned. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

‘She’s a courtesan. Works at the Lavish Chateau.’

The Lavish Chateau, Yasha _had_ heard of. It was a very, very fancy hotel. She was fairly certain that Molly had been there a few times, for a date or to watch the performance of…the Ruby of the Sea. That was where she’d heard it.

‘Anyway, the Ruby of the Sea is her mom, only don’t go spreading that around. Every now and then she goes and has dinner with her mom, and spends the night.’

The only person Yasha would even consider telling was Molly, but if Beau asked her not to, then of course she wouldn’t tell him.

They spread their meal across the tiny kitchen table, with barely enough room for two chairs. In Yasha’s pocket, the business card burned a hole.

Yasha didn’t offer, and Beau didn’t ask, but Yasha found herself getting changed into the t-shirt and shorts she kept in the back of her car, and climbing into bed beside Beau. It did not take long before Beau’s soft, relaxed snores filled the small bedroom. Yasha stayed awake a little longer than she might have otherwise done, just to make sure that those snores continued.

Yasha didn’t know how long it took for her to fall asleep. When she woke, it was to sun streaming in through the window. The weather forecast kept promising storms, and yet they had had days’ worth of brilliant blue skies.

The bed next to her was empty, and the pile of clothes that Yasha had scattered across the floor was gone.

‘Hey Yasha.’ Beau’s voice sounded strained. Yasha looked over, and saw her standing in the doorway to the bedroom. In her hand, she had the business card that had been in Yasha’s pocket. Yasha’s heart sank. ‘What’s this?’


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh god this wasn't supposed to be angsty
> 
> I fucked up.

IV.

‘What’s this,’ Beau said, and for several excruciating seconds, Yasha couldn’t think of what to say. ‘When did you see him?’ She sounded…angry. No. Not angry. Hurt.

‘Last night,’ Yasha admitted. ‘He, ah…came to the fight, and came up while you were in the locker room. I told him you weren’t there.’ She paused. ‘I didn’t want to sully your win.’

Beau sniffed, and tore the card in two. Then, she sat on the edge of her bed, head in her hands. Yasha hesitated. She wanted more than anything, to put her hand on Beau’s shoulder, to comfort her, but she wasn’t sure if her gesture would be appreciated right now.

‘I’m not mad,’ Beau said, finally. Those few seconds before she spoke were harrowing enough. Yasha didn’t believe her. There was a strange look on her face that Yasha couldn’t quite place. ‘I’m not mad at you,’ Beau clarified. ‘It’s just so fucking like him to try and track me down, and force people to pass on his messages.’

‘Oh,’ Yasha said. She sat down on the bed beside Beau, and took up the seemingly endless amount of courage it took to put her hand on Beau’s back. Almost immediately, Beau leaned into her touch, head resting against Yasha’s shoulder. ‘He has…tried this before?’

‘Oh, all the time. He’s been to the gym a few times, and the station, and once he even went to try to talk to Jester. He’s not actually _threatening_ anyone, so I can’t really do anything about it, but I’ve made it very clear that I don’t want to talk.’

There was a long silence. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

Beau sighed. ‘Short of showing up on his doorstep with a crowbar, probably not.’

‘That might end badly for me,’ Yasha said, musingly. She didn’t think that the excuse of “he made my girlfriend feel uncomfortable” would play too well with the Nicodranas police.

‘Yash, babe…’ Beau said. ‘I was joking.’

Oh.

‘I…is this going to be the part where we have the conversation about all the things that we need to say?’

Beau’s voice, when it came, was quiet. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I think it is.

Yasha made breakfast. The fridge was mostly empty. There was half a loaf of bread, a stick of butter, and a couple of eggs. It wasn’t much, but she managed to make a passable Marquesian toast. They sat together on the couch as they spoke, barely an inch between them.

Beau told the story of her dad – or rather, her family – and how he had shaped her life.

‘He’s had his business for…fucking _years_. Started when I was a kid, and was building it up from scratch. ‘s soon as I could pick up a hammer, he had me helping him. Not actually doing the work, because that was “men’s work,” but like…gopher stuff, you know? “Beauregard, go to the truck and get my spirit level, Beauregard, hold this plank of wood while I make the sun shine out of my ass.”’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, when I started getting more trouble than he thought I was worth, he made me start doing the books instead. Tracking ingoings and outgoings, stuff like that. When I pointed out all the ways that he could be making more money, he laughed, and told me to go back to doing cross-stitch.’

Beau, understandably, sounded embittered.

‘So I did what any normal teenager would do. I stole his ledgers, and started up business on my own, taking half his clients with me.’

It was not the outcome that Yasha had been expecting, and Beau still sounded so sad when she said it.

‘I bet that he did not like that.’

‘Nope.’ Beau grinned, but there were tears in the corner of her eyes. Though the swelling had gone down overnight, her right eye was still red and puffy, a bruise darkening beneath it. They finished breakfast, and went back into Beau’s bedroom.

‘I…I have something I need to show you.’ Yasha did not wait for an answer, but went for her bag, and pulled out the leather-bound book she kept at the bottom of her bag. Yasha set it on her lap, and did not open it, instead running her fingers across the leather thong that wrapped around it. She took a deep breath.

Beau seemed to sense the conflict inside of her, and laid a gentle hand on top of one of Yasha’s. Yasha turned her hand over, and let Beau squeeze it. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yes...No. I don’t know. I am…I need to tell you something, about what happened to me, and I need you to not interrupt me while I tell it, because…’ _Because, I’m afraid that if I stop, I’ll never have the courage to start again._

Yasha started at the beginning. She told the story of how she’d met Zuala as a teenager, how they had fallen in love, and started planning their lives together.

‘I grew up in…well, I think the closest Empire equivalent would be a commune,’ Yasha explained. ‘We lived off the land as a large family unit, everyone contributing their fair share to the running of things. I…don’t know exactly what happened, but my parents died when I was very young, and a man named Obann took to raising me.’ Yasha didn’t even notice the way her hand clenched, but she did notice the small gasp of pain that Beau gave, and loosened her grip almost immediately. ‘He had…well, he was not a good man.’

Yasha smiled, but she could feel decades of pain behind it. ‘I still remember the day we met. It was late in summer, and I was out picking flowers in the woods not far from the house. I stayed out so long, I didn’t even notice the storm coming. She was…she was from the nearby town, and had been exploring, and gotten lost, and I was running back to the house when I found her. We spent the afternoon hiding underneath rocks, waiting for the storm to pass.’ There was a long pause. ‘It was not…my tr—the family would have frowned upon such a fraternization. I was to make a loyal wife to a good husband, but ah…that was not the way things panned out. When I was sixteen, I ran away with Zuala, and we started our life together.’

Yasha looked to Beau, and saw that her face was blurry, like she was looking at it through the pouring rain. It wasn’t until Beau raised a hand to her cheek that she realized she was crying. ‘For a long time, we were happy, but…it did not last.’

‘What happened?’ Beau’s voice was a whisper. So soft that at first Yasha thought she had imagined it.

‘She died,’ Yasha said, simply. ‘She…it was very fast. She got sick, and…and she died.’ She unwound the leather cord around the book, and opened it at random. It fell upon a page near the back, browned with age, and from the flowers that were pressed between some of the other pages. On the page, there was a photo of Yasha and Zuala on their wedding day. Zuala’s smile could have lit up the sun, could have pushed back against the lashing winds, could have been more breathtaking than the tallest of mountains. Even looking at the picture, Yasha felt humbled in her presence. She let her fingers brush against the photo. ‘That was four years ago. I still think about her every day, still think about her every time I hear a storm, but…every day she feels a little further away.’

They were both crying now. Not wracking sobs, but the soft, gentle fall of rain. They stayed like that for a little while. Though they had barely been up for two hours, Yasha felt exhausted. She had not been so raw with someone, so open, in a very long time. The last had probably been Molly, and that was…that was different.

Molly wasn’t judgmental. Not that Beau was, but Yasha had known Molly for a long time before she had even considered telling him about Zuala. With Beau, she had taken a leap, without regard for any judgement.

‘Thank-you,’ Yasha said, after they had lain there a while. ‘For not judging me.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Beau asked. ‘Have you seen me? Who am I to judge?’

Yasha laughed. A sudden noise caught her attention. She looked out the window, and realized that it was raining. She desperately wanted to go outside, to stand out there in it, to watch the storm roll in, but…she could not do that to Beau.

Beau gave her a smile that was almost verging on a grin. ‘You want to go up onto the roof?’

‘I…yes.’

The tiny apartment was on the second floor, so they climbed four grueling flights up to the roof. Beau ran up like it was nothing, but Yasha was a little out of breath by the time she got there. While she was fairly strong, her endurance needed some work.

By the time they made it up there, the rain was falling a little more steadily, and Yasha could hear the distant sound of thunder. There was no shelter on the roof, and as they stood there, and the rain became heavier, they both became more and more soaked. Neither made any movement to return inside.

It wasn’t the tallest building around, but from the top of it, they could get a nice enough view of the ocean, and the storm clouds that were rolling in. Yasha imagined what it would be like out there, wild seas churning, lightning striking indiscriminately.

‘Growing up, I always wanted to see the ocean,’ Beau said, smiling as they stared out over it. ‘Wanted to get a sword, and fight pirates and stuff. Y’know, the sort of thing most kids dream of.’

Yasha was mildly surprised by these words. ‘You didn’t grow up in Nicodranas?’ Admittedly, her Common wasn’t very good, but she hadn’t detected an accent.

Beau raised an eyebrow. ‘No, I’m from the Empire,’ she said. ‘Grew up in a shitty little town called Kamordah, where half the population doesn’t have two copper to rub together, and the other half was born with a silver spoon up their ass.’

Yasha wondered which half Beau was from, but there was no elaboration forthcoming from Beau. The fact that her father had come all the way to Nicodranas to try and talk to her wasn’t exactly comforting.

‘I…I can’t remember whether I told you that I am from Xhorhas,’ Yasha offered.

‘No,’ Beau said. ‘But I mean…I can kinda tell.’ Yasha didn’t ask exactly how Beau could tell. After all, Yasha was from the south of Xhorhas; when most people thought of the expansive wastes, they thought of Rosohna, or of Asarius. Not of the small village near the Iothia Moorlands.

They watched until the storm grew close enough that it was a bad idea to be out in the open. They rushed back down to the apartment, sopping wet. Beau found two towels hidden in a basket of what looked like clean laundry, and threw one to Yasha. ‘I should probably let you get home,’ Beau said. ‘I don’t wanna force you to stay here in my shitty apartment.’

Yasha wasn’t in a huge hurry to leave. Her biggest concern was the fact that she didn’t have any clean clothes, and it was almost certain that none of Beau’s clothes would come anywhere near close to fitting her.

‘Jester’s clothes might fit,’ Beau told her, ‘But she also mostly wears pink thinks covered in sprinkles, so…’ She shrugged.

In the end, they waited until the storm passed, and drove back to Yasha’s house, Yasha in slightly damp clothes.

Molly was asleep on the couch, with half a pizza lying uneaten on the coffee table. Yasha put the pizza in the fridge, and covered Molly with a blanket.

Then, they retreated to Yasha’s bedroom to continue what seemed like it was just a day of in-depth conversation.

‘So, um…’ Beau said. ‘Thanks for telling me that stuff about your—about Zuala. I know it can’t have been easy, and I uh…I just want you to know that it’s okay if you still think about her, and stuff, ‘cos I know…’ There was a long pause. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, and Yasha could tell that Beau was holding something back. Before Yasha could ask, though, Beau had changed the subject. ‘So do you want me to take a look at those baseboards?’

Yasha shut the door, and kicked off her shoes. ‘Maybe tomorrow,’ she said.


	5. Chapter 5

V.

The next few days were busy.

Beau’s schedule was looking remarkably light, so she helped Yasha clear out the rest of the garden, and they got started on fixing up all the problems in the kitchen. It took Yasha longer than she cared to admit to realize that Beau had stopped wearing the blue jumpsuit, and instead was wearing jeans, and a tight, white t-shirt that left very little to the imagination. If Molly weren’t home, Yasha was sure that they probably would have ended up sullying another room in the house.

The cabinets had been hung pretty badly, and Beau found a very good deal on Craigslist, so they made a day trip out to Port Damali to pick up cabinets that were being replaced because the owners were painting their kitchen. Yasha couldn’t see why they didn’t just paint the cabinets as well, but that was apparently not something that rich people did.

Not that she was complaining or anything.

Beau took three days retiling the backsplash, and consulted with her roommate on the design. Yasha had provided no small amount of input.

‘I still haven’t met Jester,’ Yasha commented, in an offhand sort of voice. She’d meant it as a casual observation, but Beau was silent for a moment.

‘It’s…it’s stupid,’ Beau said. ‘But you’re like…the first person I’ve been with where it’s fucking…more than just sex and stuff, and I don’t know if it’s selfish or not, but I kinda want to just keep you to myself for a little bit before I start introducing you to other people.’ She mumbled the last few words, and cast her eyes downwards, as though not wanting to look at Yasha’s face.

‘That’s not stupid,’ Yasha said. More than anything, she found it…well, endearing. Not that she though Beau would take well to being called endearing. If she didn’t live with Molly, if Beau hadn’t been spending so much time helping out with the house, then Yasha was sure that she might have had similar thoughts.

At the end of those three days, Yasha brought Molly in to show him; since the bathroom had been Beau’s gift to her, it was only fair that the backsplash be for Molly.

‘Very funny,’ Molly said, though Yasha could tell that he was pleased. ‘I am not a peacock.’ Even still, he took a photo of Beau with her tiling spatula, giving him the finger. ‘For my Instagram,’ he told her.

‘It’s very beautiful,’ Yasha commented. ‘And the tiling is also very good.’

Beau gave her a grin, and a wink. Molly cleared his throat. ‘I’m gonna let you know up front that I literally have a phone in my hand,’ he said. ‘So if you’re about to get filthy, let me at least turn the lights on so that everything shows up properly in the video.’ Beau threw her spatula at him, and he dodged it with surprising ease.

When the kitchen was done, Yasha finally made good on her promise of teaching Beau to smith, but it had moved beyond just an obligation in return for services to something Yasha wanted to do for someone that she cared about deeply.

Now that the forge and the anvil were set up, and Yasha had found a decent supplier for most of her materials, she had re-opened the online store that she had started while in Trostenwald. It was amazing just how much some people were willing to pay for a hand-made knife.

Beau was an incredibly fast learner. Yasha was mesmerized by the way her mind seemed to work. She would not say that Beau was wasted as a handyperson, because she was brilliant at that, too, but the way she managed to connect the dots in such an intuitive fashion was fascinating to watch. It probably didn’t hurt that she did seem to spend a lot of her time both around fire, and doing general practical sort of things.

After just three sessions, Beau managed to make a knife on her own, without any of Yasha’s help. It was pretty good, for a beginner, and Yasha would be lying if she said she didn’t find the idea of watching Beau hammer metal appealing.

‘I made you something,’ Beau said, grinning. She presented the sheathed knife to Yasha in all of its glory.

‘Oh, Beau, I cannot accept this. You should keep the first one you make for yourself.’

‘No,’ Beau said. ‘I can make a hundred more knives, but the first one is special, so I should give it to someone special.’

Yasha found herself blushing at those words. It had been a long time since anyone had considered her special. At least in the way that Beau meant it.

She took the knife, and knew that it would have to go somewhere special in the newly tiled kitchen.

…

Late one afternoon, Yasha’s phone range. Beau hadn’t been by in a few days, but that had been an expected thing. ‘We’re in the middle of hazard reduction burns, so I’m probably gonna be busy for a while,’ Beau had said. That had been four days ago.

Yasha didn’t recognize the number on the phone. ‘Hello,’ she said.

‘ _Hi, Yasha?_ ’ The voice was vaguely familiar, but Yasha couldn’t quite place it. ‘ _My name is Jester, I’m Beau’s roommate._ ’ Of course. Yasha had spoken to Jester once, on the phone, when she had first hired Beau. But Jester wouldn’t be calling unless…

‘Is there something wrong?’

There was a long, protracted pause. ‘ _She’s okay, but like…I just thought you should know that Beau’s in the hospital_.’

Yasha’s heart seemed to fall in her stomach. Jester was still talking as she ran to find her keys. There wasn’t even a question of whether or not she would go. Of course she would go. It didn’t matter if it was just a scratch, if they were just keeping her as a precaution; there wasn’t a single iota of doubt in Yasha’s mind.

Jester had not given much detail. Just that Beau had been working a fire, and that things had gotten out of hand, and really, that was enough. Yasha knew just how horrifying and dangerous wildfires could be. Even hazard reduction burns were not without risks.

Fourteen minutes later, Yasha arrived at the hospital. The place was bustling, with lots of different important people rushing around in every direction, each with somewhere different to go. Jester had messaged her a room number, but she might as well not have done, for all the good it did. Yasha could navigate with a map and compass, but large buildings were utterly incomprehensible to her.

Finally, she managed to find the help desk, and a friendly person in green scrubs took her in the right direction.

Yasha hesitated before pushing open the door to the room.

Beau had a bandage across the top of her head, and her left arm in a cast. She was clearly attempting to argue with the nurse over something, but was having trouble making herself understood through the oxygen mask. As soon as Yasha stepped into the room, though, she froze. The nurse, seeing that she was interrupting something, made a very swift exit, a look of relief on her face.

‘Ha!’ The bright blue tiefling with pigtails and a pinafore dress that Yasha assumed was Jester sounded triumphant. ‘I knew getting Yasha here would make you behave.’ She gave Yasha an appraising sort of look. ‘Beau, you never told me she was this hot!’

Beau, who had clearly been on the verge of making an angry comment, grinned. Or at least, it looked like a grin. It was hard to tell through the oxygen mask, but her eyes had that twinkling sort of look that Beau got whenever she smiled like that. She reached out the hand that was not in a cast, and interlocked her fingers with Yasha’s.

The reason for the argument with the nurse, it transpired, was that the hospital wanted to keep Beau overnight, and Beau wasn’t having it.

‘It’s just smoke inhalation!’ she said, angrily, words muffled by the mask. ‘I can breathe at home.’ Neither Jester nor Yasha bothered to point out that she didn’t have an oxygen tank at home. And, more to the point, it wasn’t _just_ smoke inhalation. Her arm was broken in three places, and there was concussion and a large gash from where a falling branch had hit her head. She was lucky she was alive. As if to prove the point that she was not okay, Beau broke off into a coughing fit.

‘Stay,’ Yasha said. She hadn’t intended to mean it as an order. If she’d had the wherewithal, she would have listed all the reasons why it was a very good idea for Beau to let the medical experts tell her the right thing to do, instead of ignoring them and going home. Even though Beau was conscious, and seemed to be okay, the mere sight of her lying in a hospital bed rattled Yasha in a way that she did not like. After all, the last time she’d been in this position, Zuala had…well, it hadn’t ended well, to say the least.

Beau seemed to wither under that single word. ‘Okay,’ she said, sighing. Beneath the mask, it sounded eerie. ‘Will you stay with me?’

The hospital did not often make exceptions to visiting hours, Yasha found out, but the fact that it meant Beau would stop arguing was definitely a point in their favor. Even still, Yasha curled herself into the tiny chair, trying to stay out of the way as much as possible. At the very least, they took Beau off the oxygen, and were content to just monitor her levels to ensure she didn’t need to go back on.

Without the irritation of the mask, Beau fell asleep quickly. Through the window, Yasha could see that the sun was just starting to set.

It was going to be a long night.

She didn’t dare sleep herself, instead keeping a very close eye to make sure that Beau’s chest continued to rise and fall. Yasha had already once had the harrowing experience of watching someone she loved die. She did not want to go through that again.

Around midnight, Beau woke, confused and bleary from the pain medication. She tried to get up out of the bed, stopping with a flinch when Yasha put a hand to her shoulder. ‘It’s alright,’ Yasha said, softly. She did not want to wake the other patients. ‘It’s just me.’

Beau visibly relaxed, and reluctantly laying back down in the bed. ‘I don’t like hospitals,’ she murmured. Her eyes were closed, and she sounded as though she was seconds away from simply falling asleep again.

‘It’s okay,’ Yasha reassured her. ‘The nurse said you should be able to leave tomorrow, remember?’

‘Had to come here a lot as a kid,’ Beau said, continuing as though Yasha had said nothing at all. ‘Dad’d get upset, and chuck shit at me.’ Yasha, whose hand had been softly stroking Beau’s, had to fight to stop herself from clenching her fist. Beau’s next words certainly didn’t help. ‘Made me tell the nurses I’d been playing baseball.’

‘Oh, Beau.’ Beau didn’t answer, having fallen asleep again. Yasha was sure that if she’d been fully aware, she probably wouldn’t have told Yasha any of that. In any case, Yasha brought it up the next morning, if only so that Beau knew what her drug-addled self had let slip.

‘Oh,’ Beau said. Yasha was helping her put on a clean t-shirt and pants. It was harder than Yasha would have thought, to get the sleeve over the new cast. ‘Fuck. Thanks for telling me.’

‘Was it true?’ Yasha asked. Not that she didn’t believe Beau, but she knew that painkillers could mess with the mind in unpredictable ways.

Beau swallowed. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I just…you know, he never hit me or anything, but…’ She trailed off.

‘You do not have to make excuses for him,’ Yasha said. ‘From…from what you have said, and from the fact that he keeps trying to pressure you into seeing him…I do not think he is a very good person, Beau.’

Beau didn’t say anything, but continued trying to pack her things back into her bag, one-handed. The only time she asked Yasha for help was when it came to zipping up the bag. The silence continued through the journey home; the only time Beau said anything, was when Yasha asked whether she wanted to go to the apartment, or to Yasha’s place. ‘Yours,’ Beau said. That, more than anything, eased Yasha’s concern, if only slightly. In spite of its ongoing renovations, the house had a lot more space to be able to take care of someone.

Yasha made lunch. There was leftover pumpkin in the fridge, and a nearly stale loaf of bread from the batch that Yasha had made earlier in the week. Her pumpkin soup recipe was still in need of refinement, but Yasha had always found soup a very comforting food. It was also easy to eat one-handed. After her first bowl, Beau’s mood seemed to improve considerably. Enough, at least, that she managed to wolf down a second bowl. Thankfully, the hospital had given her the go-ahead to be eating real food.

‘So we may have to put a hold on doing the crown molding,’ Beau said, as she stretched out on the couch. ‘It’s a pity, I was really looking forward to whatever Instagram post Molly made about it. But, you know, better that than him threatening to post our sex tape.’ She snorted slightly, and gave Yasha a sly sort of look. ‘Unless, you know…you wanted to make one.’

Whether or not Yasha wanted to make a sex tape was immaterial, considering that Beau’s arm would be in a cast for the next six weeks. Still, she would be lying if she said the idea wasn’t even a little bit appealing.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ she said, setting herself down on the couch next to Beau. ‘How about a raincheck?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this story, check out my other Beauyasha modern AU "Endless Summer," which is an ongoing string of vignettes, interwoven with some more plotty stuff.


	6. Chapter 6

VI.

Renovations were put on hold.

It wasn’t a huge deal, in Yasha’s mind; they’d gotten the important stuff out of the way first, and the rest was more a mix of cosmetic, and “would be nice to have once we get to it.” Beau, on the other hand, was frustrated. Her dark brow furrowed as she once more had to ask for help to put her clothes on in the morning. ‘I just feel so fucking useless.’ There was a dejection in her voice that Yasha did not like.

‘I don’t keep you around because you are useful.’ She tried to keep her voice teasing, which was definitely a gamble. There was a fair chance that instead of cheering Beau up, it would send her in the opposite direction. Yasha knew she wasn’t very good with people, but she hoped that by this point, she had something of an understand of the way Beau’s mind worked.

‘Yeah?’ Beau cocked her head. ‘Why do you keep me around?’

‘Because I love you,’ Yasha said, before she could stop herself. There was a moment of silence that was bordering on awkward, and Yasha was certain that she could see tears in Beau’s eyes.

‘Huh,’ Beau said. She grimaced slightly. ‘Y’know, I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before. I…’ She trailed off. ‘Thank-you for saying that.’ Yasha had no expectations of a response, but even still, she hoped that her words had been well-received. ‘Hey, did you want to have lunch with Jester? She hasn’t stopped messaging me, asking to meet you properly.’

‘Of course,’ Yasha said. Though Beau had not said the words, the mere fact that she was asking Yasha to have lunch with Jester was monumental enough. ‘How should I dress?’

‘Uh, well, Jester suggested doing it at the Lavish Chateau. They have a private dining room there, and the chefs are all super good. So I guess…nicely, but not like…formally.’

Yasha did not have a great deal in the way of clothes that she would consider nice. There were a few long-sleeved shirts, and a single, moth-eaten black dress that Molly had insisted she wear to a party once, and she had never worn again. In the end, she ironed a lilac shirt, and brushed out her hair.

‘Matches your eye,’ Beau said, grinning, gesturing to Yasha’s left eye. ‘It looks really nice.’ Beau was wearing a black v-neck t-shirt and dark pants. Her hair was brushed back into a ponytail, revealing the shaved sides of her head. The bright blue cast on her left arm marred what was still a very attractive look.

‘Thank-you. You look beautiful.’

Beau snorted in disbelief. ‘I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I wouldn’t exactly call that beautiful.’ She turned away.

She didn’t know. She didn’t know just how beautiful she was. She knew she was _hot_ , of course, the way she was always wearing shirts that cut off just above the abs, or brushed her hair back, or flexed her muscles, but she didn’t know she was beautiful. Didn’t know that her eyes were the bright blue of the sky on a clear day, that her smile was the thing that Yasha most wanted to see every morning after waking up, her warm skin like the sand on the beach after being heated by the sun. She made the Yasha’s world a better place just by being in it.

‘You would be beautiful in anything. You would be beautiful in a garbage bag.’

Beau stared at her. ‘Should I wear a garbage bag?’

‘No, I—I didn’t mean—’

Beau grinned. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I know what you meant. I ah…I have trouble accepting compliments.’ Yasha was very much aware. It had sort of turned into a game, of the two of them trying to give compliments, and the other brushing it off embarrassedly.

Yasha drove into town, Beau giving directions along the way. It would have been easier if Beau could have driven, but with her arm still in a cast, and Beau’s truck being a stick-shift, that wasn’t exactly possible. Even if it had been, Yasha would have been much more comfortable with Beau focusing on healing, rather than trying to do the things she usually did and potentially getting hurt again. She was very much aware of the underlying resentment Beau had in regard to that fact, but Yasha would much prefer Beau be upset, than to get hurt again.

In any case, Beau seemed to be in a good mood. As they walked down the street, she ducked through some bushes to pick blue cornflowers. She looked very proud as she handed them to Yasha. Yasha brushed some leaves out of her hair.

The Lavish Chateau was at the intersection of two streets in the Opal Archways district; one of the nicest, richest neighborhoods in Nicodranas.

It was a beautiful building. A plaque on the front said that it was almost two-hundred years old, and had been built when Nicodranas was first settled. The stone slabs were eroded smooth from the daily onslaught of sea air. Yasha ran her hand across them.

She had seen this building once or twice before in the short time that she had been here, but had never gotten close enough to see what it was, let alone go inside. ‘Is it…open?’

‘Nah,’ Beau told her. ‘They serve food, but it’s not really a “sit-down meal” sort of place. The dining room is where Jester’s mom has guests sometimes.’ She knocked three times on the ornate wooden doors.

Less than ten seconds later, they burst open, and Jester bound out to greet them. She was wearing a bright green dress, with pink polka dots. It was…an experience. ‘Oh, hi!’ She immediately wrapped Yasha in a bone-crunching hug. Behind the pinafore dresses there was a surprising amount of strength.

Yasha would have expected her to have hugged Beau first, given that they were roommates, and, from what Beau had indicated, best friends. At Yasha’s startled look, Jester giggled. She seemed to be able to read Yasha’s mind. ‘I get to hug Beau _all_ the time,’ she said. ‘But I’ve never hugged you before, so I need to make sure I do it a lot. Is it not okay? Do you not like being hugged? Oh, man I should have asked.’

Yasha smiled lightly. She immediately liked Jester. In their brief meeting so far, they had not had the chance to really get to know each other. This, though…Adorable would not have been an incorrect word. Disarmingly endearing was another way that it could have been put. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. Very rarely did Yasha get the opportunity to be hugged in this sort of way. Not that she and Beau didn’t hug, but for obvious reasons, Beau was often still hesitant with touch.

Molly was less so, but he was far more likely to slap her on the ass platonically, or come in for a side hug. This was nice. Jester pulled away, and went to give Beau an equally tight hug. Beyond hugging back, Beau barely reacted at all, as though this was a daily occurrence for her.

‘I’ve hardly seen you this week,’ Jester said, in an admonishing sort of voice, as she led them into the Lavish Chateau. It was just as impressive inside as outside, with lots of dark wood, and velvet coverings, and antique vases. There was a large painting on the wall of a ruby-colored tiefling wearing a deep emerald green dress. She was gorgeous.

‘That’s my momma,’ Jester told Yasha, clearly tracking her gaze. ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’

‘Very,’ Yasha said, not tearing her gaze away.

‘Way better in person,’ Beau commented. ‘Is she having lunch with us?’

‘Oh, no,’ Jester said, airily. ‘She’s with a, ah…friend right now.’

‘She knows,’ Beau said.

‘She’s with a gentleman caller right now,’ Jester clarified. ‘She’s usually in there all day when that happens.’

‘That’s very impressive,’ Yasha said, before she could stop herself.

‘I mean, Beau’s _told_ me—’ Jester stopped abruptly as Beau’s hand raced to cover her mouth.

Lunch was very nice. The chefs at the Lavish Chateau were obviously very talented, serving up a delicious stew with fresh seafood that may well have come from the markets that very morning. There had not been much in the way of seafood in Xhorhas, or even in Trostenwald. In a way, it tasted a bit like spider, if maybe a little meatier. Yasha made a mental note to ask Jester to get the recipe.

After lunch, they had what Molly would have called “digestifs,” only for Molly a digestif would have involved very cheap wine. The fare at the Lavish Chateau was a little finer, and Jester went behind the bar to get a bottle of limoncello. Even then, though, she only poured milk for herself.

‘So when are you two getting married?’ Jester asked. Beau choked on her drink. ‘Oh, come on, Beau, you know I’m kidding.’

‘Do you remember when you said, “Oh Beau why haven’t I met Yasha yet,” and I said, “you know exactly why?”’

Jester gave a faux innocent sort of look. ‘Beau, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘What do you do for a living?’ Yasha asked, abruptly. She wasn’t upset by the mention of marriage, but she was not yet comfortable enough to explain to Beau’s roommate that she was still in mourning for her wife, and was not in a position to even think about marriage any time soon.

‘Oh, I’m an artist,’ Jester said, proudly. ‘I’m very famous. _So_ many people in Nicodranas have my pictures on their walls.’

‘She does the caricatures on the boardwalk,’ Beau said, in a tired sort of voice.

‘ _Beau_ ,’ Jester admonished. ‘I also do very tasteful life drawings.’ From Beau’s expression, Yasha thought that maybe “tasteful life drawings” was a euphemism for something, but neither of them said anything.

After lunch, they went for a walk. Jester had been in Nicodranas her whole life, and knew this part of the city like the back of her hand. ‘I used to sneak out so much,’ she explained. ‘Momma…well, she doesn’t really leave the Chateau.’

Jester showed them an alleyway with a lot of very rude graffiti, most of which appeared to have been done by Jester herself, and a tiny little park between two tall buildings where Yasha found a lot of flowers to pick, and a very old temple to the Stormlord. It had been a very long time since Yasha had seen one; the worship of the Stormlord was illegal in the Empire. Yasha hesitated before looking back at Beau and Jester. ‘Would it…would it be alright if I went inside?’

‘Sure,’ Beau said. ‘Do you…do you want company?’

‘I…yes.’ Beau stepped forward, and took Yasha’s hand. Though Yasha had never mentioned the extent of her relationship to the Stormlord, Beau was definitely smart enough to put two and two together. The photo of Yasha and Zuala together on their wedding day had been taken in front of a temple much the same as this one.

Jester, seeing that this was a private moment, stayed outside.

Inside, it was quieter than Yasha would have guessed. Temples to the Stormlord could be raucous places. Worship in celebration, they called it, with services often filled with fighting and drinking. Beau would have liked it a lot.

‘Zuala and I got married in a place like this,’ Yasha said, softly. Beau squeezed her hand, but did not say anything. ‘I won’t deny that I miss her a lot…’ She took a breath. ‘But now, I wake up in the morning, and I see you lying next to me, snoring—’ Beau laughed. ‘—and I feel like everything is going to be okay.’

‘I love you too,’ Beau said, abruptly.

Yasha looked at her. ‘What?’

‘You—this morning you told me you loved me, and I didn’t say it back, so I had to make sure that I knew that you know it.’ Beau spoke very quickly, as though to get the words out before she could lose her nerve. ‘So…you know…I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ Yasha said. She pressed a kiss to Beau’s forehead, and together they looked up at the symbol of the Stormlord.


	7. Chapter 7

VII.

Late in Thunsheer, Beau’s cast came off.

She had been chomping at the bit for weeks, now, unable to work, or to volunteer, or to even train, she had burnt of most of her restless energy through sex. Not that Yasha was complaining. They did have to keep things a little more subdued than they might have otherwise, but it did seem to waylay a lot of Beau’s grumpiness.

They spent five out of every seven days together, Beau only returning to the apartment to check in with Jester, or pick up something she needed. ‘Why don’t you just ask her to move in, and be done with it?’ Molly asked. ‘I mean, she practically lives here already. Maybe if it’s permanent, I won’t have to walk in on the two of you f—’ Yasha silenced him with a look.

‘You wouldn’t mind?’

‘Fuck no. I may think she’s unpleasant and obnoxious, but she does make you happy.’ Molly was definitely joking. For all that Beau and Molly were throwing barbs at each other, they did seem to get on quite well. In fact, Yasha was fairly certain that they both thrived on the banter. ‘Plus, you know…you get to book a U-Haul.’

Yasha was certain that he was trying to make a joke of some kind, but she couldn’t quite parse it. Before she could ask him to explain it, though he had wandered off to his bedroom. 

What had been simply a vague thought went onto the backburner for a while, replaced by a different sort of vague thought.

Yasha still had Jester’s number in her phone, from the call she’d gotten when Beau was injured. It took Yasha a day or two to work up the courage to call it.

‘ _Hi, Yasha!’_ Jester said, in an excited voice. ‘ _How are yoooou?_ ’ She managed to make the word “you” sound like it had several extra syllables.

‘I am good. I…There is something that I need your help for.’

‘ _Of course, Yasha. Anything for you_.’

‘Can I come over?’

‘ _Beau’s not here, she’s at the gym with her coach. She won’t be home for_ ages.’ Good. That was good. Yasha didn’t know how long this was going to take, and she didn’t want Beau to walk in on what she wanted to ask.

‘I don’t want to talk to her, I want to talk to you.’

Jester gave a slight squeal. ‘ _Oh my gods, Yasha! Do you need help planning a proposal? Oh, I have so many good ideas!_ ’

‘No, nothing like that,’ Yasha said, quickly, even though it was a little bit like that. She just wanted to head Jester off at the pass.

Yasha found her keys, and drove over to the apartment. Jester met her gleefully at the door. The apartment looked much the same as it did the last time Yasha had been here. Small, and a little pokey, and with dishes in the sink.

Jester was covered in clay, and looked like she had been making small figurines of what looked like…tiny dicks. ‘You can help, if you want!’ Jester told her, and Yasha sat down opposite, and began molding the clay into the right shape.

They had made half a dozen or so clay figurines, before Yasha explained why she was there.

‘I was hoping to maybe commission some art,’ Yasha said. Jester looked very surprised. She leaned in, and whispered in a scandalous tone.

‘Yasha, do you want me to draw you naked to give as a gift to Beau, because _I_ would be okay with that, but I don’t think Beau—’

‘No,’ Yasha said. ‘I do not want to do that.’ She pulled out her phone, and showed Jester the picture of the backsplash in the kitchen, and the feature tile in the bathroom. ‘You helped design these, yes?’

‘Oooh,’ Jester said. She took the phone from Yasha’s hand. Clay fingerprints from both of them smudged across the screen. ‘Beau never showed me what they looked like finished. She did such a good job!’

‘She did,’ Yasha agreed. ‘I was wondered…I would like to do something else, but not tiled. Perhaps a picture of some kind?’

‘Oh, like a mural?’ Jester asked. ‘Maybe with like…a really cool volcano, and some like…lollipops, and unicorns…’

‘I was thinking more…something for Beau,’ Yasha admitted. She paused. ‘I am not ready to marry, but I would like to ask her to move in.’

Predictably, Jester gushed. She was very excited, and tore off the top page of her sketchbook to reach a fresh page underneath. 

‘Well she really likes the beach,’ Jester started. Yasha nodded, that would have been her first thought as well. Beau clearly had no love lost for Kamordah, so it wouldn’t be any good making a mural for the place that she had left behind.

Even on paper, the planned mural looked impressive. Rolling waves, and white sands, and green and brown palm trees. There was even a little bit of an underwater scene with a smiling (shirtless) mermaid that looked suspiciously like Yasha. Even though Jester had never even come close to seeing Yasha naked, she had done a remarkably good job, in spite of the tail. In spite of that, Yasha thought that it would be a little arrogant for her to present Beau with a mural with Yasha’s own likeness on it, to convince Beau to move in. They compromised by giving the changing the facial features, and giving the mural mermaid a starfish bra.

Eventually, they agreed on a design. Yasha pulled out her wallet.

‘Don’t be silly!’ Jester said. ‘I _want_ to help you! It’s so romantic. I mean, of _course_ I’ll be upset if Beau moves out, but this is for _love_!’

Yasha insisted. She did not want to be the sort of person that asked for help, that requested a service, and did not make the proper payment. Jester quoted a price that Yasha suspected was very much a lowball, and Yasha paid her double that. Jester gave what seemed like a polite amount of pushback, before pocketing the gold. Yasha knew from experience that artists did not necessarily make that much money. She was lucky that her own work was niche enough that people were willing to pay for it.

‘Now all you have to do is get her out of the house,’ Jester told her.

‘Oh,’ Yasha said. She hadn’t exactly thought about that part. She couldn’t just ban Beau from coming to the house. The best thing to do would be to take Beau away for a weekend or so, some sort of thing where Yasha could know beyond any doubt that they would not get caught in an awkward situation.

The plan coincided with another need of Yasha’s; since coming to Nicodranas, she had mostly driven her car. The motorcycle was well in need of a long journey, and Beau had, on more than one occasion, seemed agreeable to going for a ride.

It was surprisingly simple to organize. Yasha was not a very good liar at all, but Beau did not seem overly suspicious at the suggestion of a few days away. In fact, she seemed ecstatic at the idea. Since the cast had come off, Beau had been putting in a lot of hours both at the gym, and working. It wasn’t surprising that she needed a break.

Beau put on the helmet with a practiced ease. Yasha hadn’t thought to ask, but she imagined that Beau would be the sort of person that had some experience with, at the very least, being a pillion passenger on a motorcycle.

‘I prefer to ride,’ Beau commented. ‘But I totaled my bike a while back, and…haven’t had a chance to fix it.’ There was as strange pause in the middle of the sentence there that Yasha couldn’t quite parse.

They rode south-west in the general direction of Port Damali. Yasha had a couple of ideas about where to stop, based on suggestions from Jester and from Molly. The first place they stopped was a large sunflower farm about an hour out of Nicodranas.

‘I never knew this was here,’ Beau commented. She was staring out at the hundreds of thousands of rows of sunflowers, a sea of yellow and green and black. ‘This is gorgeous.’

‘Molly told me about it,’ Yasha told her. ‘He also suggested that it would be a very “salacious” place to try and get caught, but I don’t know why he thinks we would get caught. We paid the man at the gate to come in here.’

Beau snorted. ‘He means getting caught fucking,’ she explained. ‘He’s not wrong.’

‘Oh,’ Yasha said. She looked around. She couldn’t deny that the thought of making love to Beau in amongst the sunflowers was _very_ appealing. But, this was such a beautiful place, and Yasha did not want to get banned from it, so she resisted that urge.

Yasha stopped to use the bathroom on the way out. When she returned to the bike, she saw Beau, helmet in one hand, and long-stemmed sunflower in the other. Beau presented the flower with a flourish. ‘For you,’ she said.

‘You did not steal this, did you?’ Yasha was mildly concerned. Beau gestured towards a chalkboard sign that Yasha had somehow missed, which read, “Pick your own, 5 gold.”

They kept riding. When they were a few hours from Port Damali, Yasha took an exit off in the direction of Othe. No matter how subtle Yasha had tried to be, Beau had definitely noticed the chance in course. ‘Where are we going?’

‘You’ll see.’

They rode for another half an hour or so, through winding foothills, before coming to a narrow gravel driveway.

Beau let out a low whistle.

It was a tiny cottage surrounded by trees, and grass, and mountains. The nearest town was probably fifteen minutes away on the bike. Yasha had spent a very long time on Expedia, trying to find the perfect place. It had a fireplace, and a hearth rug, and a very nice spa bath that could have fit a horse. There was also a basket sitting on the bed, surrounded by rose petals. That one was entirely Jester.

‘So, interesting place for a rental,’ Beau commented, clearly feigning ignorance. ‘How’d you find it?’

‘There was a special,’ Yasha said, in a flat, deadpan voice.

‘Oh, that was lucky,’ Beau said. She was definitely playing into the lie. ‘How many nights did you book here?’

Yasha faltered slightly. ‘There was a…...website glitch, so we’re here for three nights.’

‘Oh no, that’s terrible.’ Beau grinned. ‘How are we going to pass the time?’

‘Well, if you’re sore,’ Yasha said. ‘Then I can run a bath.’

‘You know, I wasn’t, but suddenly I find myself overcome with a strange, sudden aching.’

Yasha started filling the tub.

‘So are you, uh...gonna join me?’ Beau asked, making no secret of what her intentions would be once they were in the tub.

‘I wouldn’t want to make you sore,’ Yasha said, deadpan.

‘Really, cos I would absolutely be okay with you making me sore,’ Beau said, bluntly. ‘In fact, the less I can walk tomorrow, the better.’

They had a good weekend.

On the last day of their trip, Jester sent through a text, saying that she was done, and that she hoped Yasha and Beau were having a very good time and enjoying all the sex. It came through as three separate messages, and did not include any picture attachments.

The return journey seemed to take no time at all.

It occurred to Yasha, perhaps too late, now that they were walking back through the front door, that she had never actually seen any of Jester’s work. At least not her work that hadn’t been filtered through Beau’s tiling.

The moment she stepped through the door, though, what little worry she had melted away entirely. The mural was beautiful. Blues of every shade imaginable; the sea, and the sky, and everything in between. The sand was made up of tiny textured swirls that looked very much like Jester had used actual sand for effect. Yasha had barely had a chance to marvel at it, before Beau stepped in behind her.

‘Hey Yasha, could I bo—’ What it was that Beau wanted to borrow, Yasha did not hear, because Beau stopped speaking immediately. ‘Whoah,’ she said. ‘That’s fucking amazing – did Jester do this?’

Jester had made herself scarce; the drop-cloth and the paintbrushes and the paint had all already been cleaned up, and the tiefling was nowhere to be seen. ‘Yes,’ Yasha said, stepping forward. ‘I think it is still wet, though, so perhaps we should wait before we touch it.’ Beau, who had been reaching out to do exactly that, pulled her fingers back.

‘Any particular reason for the sudden desire for more art?’ Beau asked. Her voice was strangely high, as though that wasn’t the question that she really wanted to ask. Now that she had asked it, though, Yasha found herself unable to answer. She knew what she wanted to say, of course, but how to say it…

‘It…’ she started, and then faltered. ‘It is for you.’ The look on Beau’s face didn’t fade, and Yasha could tell that she was still waiting for more information before she answered. ‘You made something for me, and for Molly; it is only right that you have something too, because…’ Another hesitation. ‘Do you want to move in?’

Beau frowned. ‘You…got Jester to paint this to ask me to move in?’ Yasha couldn’t tell the tone of Beau’s statement. ‘Yasha, you could have given me a bag of old trash and asked me to move in and I would have said yes. You didn’t need to do all this.’

‘Yes, I did.’ It wasn’t even a question. Yasha could have given Beau the world, and it would have felt like it wasn’t enough. ‘Is that a yes?’

Beau gave her a light slap on the bicep. ‘Of course it’s a yes.’ She grabbed Yasha by the back of the neck, and kissed her. ‘There’s still so much work to be done.’ Her gaze, surprisingly, went to Molly’s bedroom. ‘You know what I think we should work on first, though?’

‘What?’

Beau grinned. ‘Soundproofing,’ she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late, but here it is.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, then read my other story, Endless Summer.
> 
> Otherwise keep an eye out for the next chapter of Once Upon a Time in Ancient Exandria sometime in the next hundred years or so.


End file.
